Sunrise, Sunset
by Kara
Summary: Post AWE Sunrise, sunset Swiftly fly the years One season following another Laden with happiness and tears


Sunrise, Sunset

by Kara

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Through the credits on PotC3 (what, you didn't sit through them? Shame!)

Summary: Sunrise, sunset/ Swiftly fly the years/ One season following another/ Laden with happiness and tears

She told herself that one day in ten years would be enough. The memories of that twenty-four hours, from sunrise to sunrise, would be enough to sustain her through the next decade alone. Maybe it didn't work for a goddess, but it would work for the Pirate King. With luck, there would be plots and plunders to keep her busy enough not to notice the passage of ten years. There would be crew and company enough to keep her mind off of her cold bed and iron-bound chest that contained both her and Will's hearts.

She was young, she was at the height of her power, and the pirate brethren had won a victory of the likes they had never seen. There was no talk now of price, or of the inevitable end to this age, but everyone knew what hovered on the horizon. Especially the ones who had been to World's End and back again.

There was no lack of offers of ships to sail on—Chinese junks, British privateers, French corsairs. She could have gone back to England if she chose, or Port Royal to mourn the loss of her father. The one ship she did want to crew would have to wait—at least for a little while. So she bided her time. Pillaged and plundered and didn't give a hoot with the best of them, singing the loudest and dancing the hardest, even if she didn't touch the rum.

It was Anamaria who figured out what was wrong, on a brief stopover in Tortuga. The current and former crews of the Black Pearl, currently under control of Jack but even that was tenuous at best, met up for a night of remembering and forgetting. The third time she'd run to the privy, Anamaria asked her how long it had been since her last courses, since her night with Will.

"Think on it, Captain Turner," Anamaria said, that sly look in her eyes. "There are ways, if you'll not be wantin' the child…"

And a solution was pressed upon her, a living reminder of that one night in those ten years. A solution whose brown eyes looked up at her from the same face that she saw in her dreams every night, and smiled a shy smile that reminded her of days before piracy, when she and Will were both still innocent…if they ever had been.

"Will he come?" Will asked again. Mum had told him the story for years now, night after night as they counted down the months, and then the days, until that one special night. "You're sure he'll come?" One chance in ten years to see his father. He wasn't going to give that up. In another ten years, he'd be a pirate full-grown.

Mum just smiled that secret smile of hers, the one she got whenever the uncles called her Mrs. Turner and she almost blushed like the girls in the village. "He'll come," she repeated, tugging at his waistcoat, straightening the cuffs of his shirt.

It was hard to believe that his Mum, his very own Mum with her soft hair and pretty smile, was the Pirate King. They didn't have a fancy house like the ones the merchants lived in. Even though they didn't live near the docks, there was still a ship anchored in their bay at least once a month, seeking out Mum's advice or judgment. Sometimes they came to see Will, to bring him stories of his father or news of the Pearl. He was already plotting to run away in three years, since Uncle Jack and Uncle Hector had already promised him the spot of cabin boy, depending on who was captain that week. Uncle Jack even said he might consider making Mum first mate and let her share his cabin if she came along too, but no respectable pirate went to sea with his Mum. Even if she was the Pirate King.

They all asked when Captain Turner would sail again. Mum always smiled that little smile, that secret look in her eyes, and hinted about times when Will would be sent away to school. She talked about missing it sometimes, the salt and the sound of waves rocking you to sleep, even though they lived right on the bay. They even had their own little skiff, the Calypso, that they sailed all over the islands, but that never seemed enough for Mum. Will saw how she looked at the open sea sometimes. It was the same look all his uncles got, after being on land too long.

She tried being a captain and a Mum for a while, but Uncle Hector said there'd been too close a call when he was a baby. They'd left the sea before Will could even remember, even though he swore it sang to him in his dreams at night. He hoped Mum was kidding when she talked about school and England. They were both too far away. Too respectable. Too far from the sea.

Mum finished her final adjustments, tugging a comb through his hair and muttering as always how tangled it was, just like his father's. His battered leather hat, just like Uncle Jack's, was set on the top of his head. Proper pirate's hat it was, perfect for tonight. Will shivered a little with anticipation. He'd been waiting for this moment his whole life, it seemed. Nine years and three months, and he'd finally meet his father. The first Captain Will Turner, second William Turner to sail the seven seas. And someday, he'd be the third.

"Is it time?" he asked again, looking out the window. This time, Mum's eyes followed his. She bit her lip and nodded, almost looking nervous herself. Her hands clutched his a little too tightly, and Will wasn't sure he was ready to share her just yet, not when he'd been the only man in her life for so long.

"It's time," she said finally, almost whispered really. She fair shook when she held her hand out to him. "Come, Will. It's time."

They stood on the cliff overlooking the bay, waiting. Will fidgeted, eyes straining to catch sight of the Flying Dutchman. The sun began to set, but still no sign of the ship. He looked anxiously up at Mum, who just smiled that little smile again. She put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing tight.

"He'll come," she repeated for the hundredth time. "He promised." The last bit was almost a whisper. Almost a prayer.

And the sky flashed green and Mum's eyes filled with tears. And there was a ship on the horizon.

Ten years were a long, cold time without feeling another human being's touch. While his father's company had been a joy, the realization of a childhood dream, it still hadn't made those lonely nights any easier. He thought that the memories of that one glorious day, sunrise to sunrise, would be enough. But it wasn't. It never was. Especially now, lying in the bed that should have been his marriage bed, splayed against his wife's warm belly and thighs… He didn't want to go back, not now, not after—

Elizabeth's hands were in his hair, stroking softly as if he was their son. Their son. Sailors had brought word of the third Will Turner to dream of pirates and the open seas. He'd seen more than one familiar face in the past ten years, each one bringing news of the world outside his ship. It brought some pleasure to him, keeping up with who had stolen the Pearl from whom now, knowing that Captain Turner was still regarded as the best Pirate King ever to be recorded by the Keeper of the Code. It warmed that place where his heart used to be that so many were looking after his family—that silly feuds seemed to stop at the entrance to their sheltered bay on the island, and pirates from around the world came to tell his son stories about the father Young Will never knew.

His son had stared at him with such nervousness in his eyes. As if any father—or grandfather—could resist him. His own father had swept the boy into his arms, proclaiming him a true Turner before heading back to the Dutchman. The boy had talked himself hoarse from sunset to sunrise, showing Will treasure after precious treasure from his uncles. His son finally nodded off near sunrise, slumping over in his own low bed in the loft, a familiar hat clutched in one hand.

They'd fallen in each other's arms then, slow and steady as they had ten years before. The memories had nothing on the reality of Elizabeth's body—its angles and subtle curves, its scars and the very warmth that seemed to emanate from every dip and bend. He'd forgotten the salty taste of her collarbone, the long curves of her thighs, the small brown birthmark on her right hip. She was older, her body rounder with motherhood, her eyes more tired. But in his eyes, she was still the most beautiful thing to have ever drawn breath. And he had no hesitation in telling her that—with words, with touches, with kisses to every part of her that he'd missed.

They were woken up just before midday by another body flopping into bed with them, all long arms and spindly legs that promised of great height in a few years. Their son--battered hat still on his head, for all the nightshirt he also wore--looked up at them both with hopeful eyes. Determined eyes, ones Will remembered vividly from his childhood. This was a boy who was denied nothing; could be denied nothing. A miracle child that by rights should not have existed, but who won the right from the gods themselves to live and breathe and smile that little smile. A child who deserved two parents, not just the most wonderful mother in the world and beyond.

"D'you want to hear my song?" the miracle asked in a rush, launching into something Will remembered first Elizabeth and then Jack singing, about a pirate's life, yo ho.

One more day of memories, this time of two people to be held where his heart used to be. Teaching his son to fight with a sword. Seeing that his mum has already given him a good basis. Watching the glee in his son's eyes as Mum fights Da—and nearly winning.

And the minutes rolled into hours by the glass, and the sun began its descent over the bay. And as he gathered himself and his memories, he tried to ignore the pleading look in both sets of eyes that watched him. Elizabeth, ever stoic and always the strong one, would never say anything. But his son…

"Don't leave!" Thin arms around his waist, legs wrapped around his, a curly head digging into his sternum, just under where his heart used to be. "Da, don't leave!" The name he never thought to hear, one that fell so easily from the mouth of his son.

They stood there, three entangled at the cliff's edge, waiting as the sun went down. Waiting for a ship that would separate them again for ten long years.

"Why can't you stay?" his son whispered over and over again into Will's shirt, the brown head now nestled into the curve of his neck. Nine year old arms tightened tighter and tighter around his shoulders, clinging. And Elizabeth's hand on his back, careful not to push him toward the ship or pull him toward land.

The sun set, slipping below the horizon, and there was no flash of green. Elizabeth's eyes met his, confused and trying not to hope… He drew his family closer, holding them one last time—just in case, for one more memory.

"Ye fulfilled yer part o' the bargain, Will Turner." A familiar voice seemed to fill both the sea and darkening sky at once, surrounding them. In the distance, Will could see a familiar silhouette sailing against the horizon. "Ye has done yer time, as ye were required. And as reward for that—" Will could almost hear the sly smile in the voice. "Yer time be up. The Dutchman has a new captain now."

Sharp pain, worse than being stabbed in the heart. Elizabeth pushed their son aside, tearing at his shirt. "Will, don't you die on me now. If you die on me, I'll kill you myself," she threatened under her breath, fingers probing the old scar. Her palm lay against his chest and they both felt it beat once. Twice.

Fingers intertwined with his as two pairs of brown eyes stared at him in the same disbelief.

They rushed back to the little house on the hill, throwing open the door and running for the dead man's chest that was locked in the larger chest at the foot of Elizabeth's bed. Elizabeth's fingers fumbled the keys in the lock, losing their grip until Will covered her smaller hand with his. Together, they turned the key, easing the tumblers in the lock open. They stared at each other for so long that their son grew impatient.

"I'll do it," their miracle said, opening the chest with a resigned sigh.

The heart still lay at the bottom of the chest, beating as it had for the past ten years.

"Will?" Elizabeth's hand crept up to his chest again, feeling his own heart beat under her palm.

He covered her hand with his, squeezing tightly. "Unless…"

His father's sly smile as the Dutchman dropped him off. Tia Dalma's voice. The Dutchman has a new captain now…

"Is Grandfather the new captain of the Flying Dutchman?" Young Will asked. Thin arms wrapped around his waist again. "So you're staying forever and ever?"

Forever and ever.

"Now we can go to sea again!" their son shouted, dancing around him and Elizabeth. His wife trembled in his arms, one step from the swoon that once brought Jack Sparrow into their lives.

"Is it time for the Pirate King to sail?" Will asked, grinning down at his wife.

Elizabeth traced his jaw with one finger, bringing his mouth to hers with a hand at the back of his neck. "Only if her Queen will sail with her," she answered, a pirate-like smirk curling up the corner of her mouth.

"Queen? Why should I have to be the Queen?" He held his wife at arm's length. "You look far better in skirts. And trousers," he added as an afterthought, remembering Tortuga, Singapore, every day on the Pearl.

"You weren't elected King" was his wife's lofty answer.

"Perhaps we can call for a second vote," he said into his wife's neck, kissing it gently. Their son squealed and made noises of disgust completely unsuitable for a Pirate Prince.

Elizabeth's hand ran through his hair. "Yo ho, yo ho," she sang softly. "A pirate's life for us…"


End file.
